


Werewolves

by achievemenhunter



Series: Scarefest Challenge 2014 [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, Gore, Guns, M/M, Smut, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:53:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2483711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achievemenhunter/pseuds/achievemenhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin and Ryan are Werewolf Hunters, and they're damn near the best at what they do.</p><p>But sometimes, that isn't enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Werewolves

**Author's Note:**

> ~~How did this end up being almost 5000 words what the hell~~  
> 
> Maybe for the final challenge, I'll write one without a character death.
> 
> But somehow I doubt it.
> 
> Content warnings for blood, gore, violence, a brief bit of smut and character death.

"Any new contracts?" Ryan asked, looking up from where he was disassembling a pistol. Gavin was seated on the end of the shitty hotel bed, flicking through messages on his phone.

 

"Yep," the Brit replied, scrolling through the email. "Small town about 50 miles off, suffering from a bit of an infestation. They’ve had a few deaths already, they're offering ten grand for someone to clear the bastards out."

 

Ryan's eyebrows shot up at the figure. That kind of cash would tide them over for a good damn while. "Well, we better make sure we get there first," he said with a grin, putting the gun back together with a solid click.

 

Hunting Werewolves was a very competitive business, after all.

 

~* * *~

 

The car ride was a quiet affair, like it usually was. They'd been partners - and more - for so long that just about any silence between them was companionable, and half the time they didn't really even feel the need for conversation. Except when Gavin was in the mood to ask the most ridiculous hypothetical questions he could think of, at which point the car would be filled with good-natured shouting as they thought entirely too hard about the logistics of whatever theoretical scenario Gavin had come up with.

 

When they were within a few miles of their destination, Gavin's leg started to bounce restlessly without him even realising, a side effect of his anticipation. Even though he'd been hunting Wolves with Ryan for nearly a decade, he never failed to get keyed up before a hunt, but that nervousness always dissipated once they actually got started. With a fond smile, Ryan's right hand left the careworn steering wheel to give Gavin's thigh a gentle squeeze. Gavin grinned bashfully and stopped his jiggling, only to subconsciously start it up again a few minutes later. Ryan let out a small chuckle, reflexively patting the dashboard as his hand returned to the steering wheel. The car, a beat-up but dependable pick-up, had been in Ryan's possession since even before he'd met Gavin, and he held a large degree of affection for the vehicle. The first time Gavin had seen the pick-up, with its dints and scrapes and rusted paint, he'd turned on Ryan and practically ordered him to buy a nicer car. Over time, however, he'd grown to love it almost as much as Ryan did.

 

Ryan had first met the Brit on a hunt - he'd tracked a small pack of Wolves to a rather wealthy suburban area, where each house had sprawling lawns that led to isolation from their neighbours. By the time Ryan had followed the trail and broken into Gavin's home, the young man's parents were already lying dead on the floor, and the only thing fending off the three Wolves snapping and snarling at the Brit was the silverware he'd hastily snatched from one of the cabinets. If he hadn't had the wits to grab that particular metal, Gavin would have been dead too when Ryan arrived. As it was, there was something almost comical in the fact that the scrawny Brit was holding off three fully-fledged Wolves with a fork and a spoon. Once he'd taken stock of the situation, Ryan didn't waste a moment before firing his pistol three times, each silver bullet piercing a Wolf through the heart. Gavin jumped at the sudden gunshots, not even having realised Ryan was there in his terror.

 

Gavin was barely out of his teens at the time, but he was still an adult. He convinced Ryan to stick around for a few days, and, after his parents' funeral, promptly left with the Hunter, demanding to be trained to kill Werewolves. Ryan had been reluctant to introduce someone so young to such a lifestyle, but the set determination on the Brit's face told him that if he didn't, Gavin would just go out on his own and likely end up getting himself killed. And Ryan had been travelling alone for quite a while, some company definitely wouldn't go amiss. On top of that, hunting Wolves wasn't exactly the steadiest of jobs, and there would often be periods where Ryan would barely scrape by. After all, his reasons for being a Hunter were more moral than monetary.

 

With rich and recently deceased parents, Gavin had a rather substantial amount of money in his bank account, and even though the fact that this swayed his decision into agreement made Ryan feel more than a little guilty, he rationalised that it was still Gavin's choice where his money was directed, even if that particular direction meant Ryan would be spending it. Not to mention that the additional funds meant Ryan was able to do his job that much better, even saving lives that would have been lost otherwise.

 

The money wouldn't last forever, though, and despite Ryan's warnings of what would happen if they were frivolous with it, Gavin still pestered the older man to book much fancier hotel rooms than were necessary when they were on the road. Within five years, they emptied the bank account. Gavin was aghast, even as Ryan grouchily reminded him that he'd said it would happen.

 

Gavin quickly learned to live rough. He yearned for the days where his bed was his own, and not some narrow, creaky two-star hotel affair that stabbed him with the ends of springs whenever he moved. But, he wouldn't trade the comfiest bed in the world for the satisfaction he got at the end of every successful hunt, his skills steadily increasing as Ryan trained him until the student was almost as skilled as his teacher.

 

~* * *~

 

There had been a point, a good few years before they'd drained Gavin's bank account dry, when Ryan realised his affection for the younger man ran a little deeper than a simple platonic partnership. Already worried that he was taking advantage of Gavin for his money, Ryan had panicked and internalised his feelings, burying them deep in the back of his mind and distancing himself from the Brit. This had the opposite of the desired effect - Gavin mistook the sudden coolness between them as the result of something he'd done, and was more affectionate and kind to Ryan than ever in an attempt to work himself back into the older man's favour. Not sure what else to do, Ryan let it happen, after his insistence that Gavin had done nothing wrong fell on deaf ears.

 

Ryan had had no idea that Gavin had secretly been harbouring feelings for him as well, so his only concern when Gavin offered to give him a backrub - promising it wasn't weird, that Ryan had been so tense lately and that it would do him good - was that he wouldn't be able to help himself with the Brit's hands all over him, and end up admitting his feelings. He'd even blushed and stammered when Gavin told him to take off his shirt so that the younger man could massage him better - _" _Come on, Rye-Bread, you sleep in your boxers, why're you getting weird about being shirtless?_ "_ \- and sat on the edge of his plush hotel mattress. His shoulders hunched just the slightest as Gavin hopped from his own bed to clamber onto Ryan's, knees going either side of the older man's hips and slender fingers settling on Ryan's back. Gavin's hands were an unfair amount like heaven, and Ryan couldn't help the groans that escaped him as Gavin worked out the knots in his muscles.

 

And yeah, it had been a good damn while since Ryan had participated in anything remotely sexual that involved anything other than his own hand, but it didn't make it any less mortifying and shameful when he felt himself getting hard. He did his best to quell his desire, but he was nowhere near successful, and he took to hoping desperately that Gavin wouldn't notice. But of course, Gavin noticed, and Ryan steeled himself for the younger man's disgust. Instead, Gavin went red as a stop sign and screwed up the courage to ask if Ryan wanted him to take care of that, too.

 

The older man had baulked at the idea at first, no matter how much he wanted it, still far too concerned about taking advantage of Gavin, and worried that the Brit was only offering as a display of gratitude for saving his life. Gavin had grinned deviously then, fingers still working over the expanse of Ryan's back, and started to whisper in Ryan's ear that such reasoning didn't explain why on the nights when he would lie awake, and was sure that Ryan was soundly asleep the next bed over, more often than not Gavin would jerk off to the thought of the older man's hands on him. How he'd make himself come as he imagined all the ways that Ryan would make Gavin his, and how much he yearned for such things to be a reality.

 

A shudder travelled along Ryan's spine at the words, hands clenched around the edge of the mattress, and he caved almost instantly.

 

They hadn't had the supplies to go all the way, nor would Ryan have felt comfortable doing so right off the bat, no matter how much they both wanted to. They satisfied themselves - and each other - with touches of hands and lips and tongues, languidly exploring each other's bodies.

 

Whilst young, Gavin wasn't inexperienced, and soon had Ryan spewing muffled cursewords when the Brit wrapped his lips around the older Hunter's length. Ryan couldn't quite fathom how someone that would often gag on his toothbrush during its normal use was able to take him in as far as the younger man had - and, with the way Gavin was sucking his cock in earnest, he hadn't much cared.

 

He held out for an admirable amount of time, all things considered, and gave Gavin a gentle tap to the side of his head when he felt himself getting close. Gavin had clung to him stubbornly, leaving Ryan gasping through his orgasm, eyes flying open as Gavin milked him dry. He'd laid panting on the bed for a few moments, looking down with wide eyes as Gavin pulled off, slowly licking his lips, his face the picture of debauchery. Staving his body's desire for sleep, Ryan had flipped them over and returned the favour. The way that Gavin had arched and writhed beneath him, babbling nonsense as he threaded his fingers through Ryan's hair, let him know that there would definitely be a repeat of events. A bloom of satisfaction at the prospect had made him smile around the cock in his mouth, Gavin coming with a sudden cry. They'd showered and fallen into Gavin's bed together, curled up in each other's limbs and sleeping more soundly than either of them had in months.

 

Their relationship had grown steadily from there, even bleeding over into their work. But, rather than serving as a distraction, their newfound closeness led to a greater awareness of each other, to the point where they could predict with a reasonable certainty what the other would do at any given moment during a Hunt. They were a formidable pair of Hunters, even within the big leagues of their profession, and it was a point of pride that their names were starting to get around, not least of all because it meant that jobs were easier to acquire.

 

Which brought them to where they were now - greeting the town sheriff, who was practically falling over himself to thank them for answering the call so quickly. He gave them directions to the farm that the Wolves had taken over after they'd killed the lawful occupants. Wringing his hands, he explained that he would have taken care of the issue on his own, but it was only a small town station with three officers to its name - just one, now, as the Wolves had killed the other two, and the remaining officer had been too badly injured to return to work. Ryan asked whether the officer had been bitten, but the sheriff was quick to assure them that it was just a deep scratch to the shoulder, and that there were people monitoring him day and night just in case. They thanked the sheriff for his help, eager to get the job underway before moonrise, when the Wolves would be strongest. The moon only would be about three quarters full that night, but it would still be enough to give the pack more strength than Ryan wanted them to have.

 

He parked the pickup about half a mile from the farm and they continued on foot, sprigs of wolfsbane in their jacket pockets masking their scent as they approached the building. Making sure they were properly hidden behind some low scrub a hundred-odd metres from the farmhouse, Ryan pulled two pairs of binoculars from his bag, wordlessly handing one to Gavin. They peered through the binoculars into the kitchen on the first floor, where they could see half a dozen Wolves conversing rambunctiously, helping themselves to the beer stashed in the fridge by the house's previous owners. There were two females and four males, all around the same size, suggesting that their Alpha was elsewhere. That meant there were likely at least seven Wolves in the house; it was the largest pack Ryan had seen in a good while, and the largest Gavin had seen, ever. But the Hunters were good at what they did, and with the element of surprise, Ryan was confident that the job would go fine.

 

With a silent nod, the two Hunters packed away the binoculars in favour of their guns, creeping towards the house and keeping out of the light cast on the ground through the window. In unison, they swung towards the window, firing at the seated pack. It wasn't entirely sporting, but it was effective, four of the Wolves going down with either howls of pain or complete silence, slumping dead across the table. By the time the two remaining Wolves had realised what was happening and charged towards the window, Ryan and Gavin had already dashed to the front of the house, kicking the door in and bursting into a spacious front room. On the open ground of the lawn, the Wolves would have the advantage of manoeuvrability, and it was better to take the fight inside, where the remaining Wolves wouldn't have as much room to move.

 

That's when everything went wrong.

 

Wolves seemed to pour out of every doorway. Ryan's eyes widened even as he started to fire his pistol again, immediately going back-to-back with Gavin. They kept coming, even as the Hunters' pistols ran out of bullets and they switched to silver blades, slashing at every Wolf that came close. But there were so many - far more than Ryan had ever seen in one place. In the end, there were just as many Wolves left standing as injured or dead when the Hunters were overpowered.

 

It took three Wolves to keep Ryan from breaking free - one holding each arm, forcing him to kneel, and a third behind him, knee against the base of Ryan's spine and a fist tangled in his hair to force his head back. Looking down, Ryan could just see Gavin at the edge of his vision, writhing in an ineffective attempt to get out from under the two heavy bodies pinning him to the floor. Several of the Wolves not actively keeping the Hunters at bay cleared their fallen brothers and sisters from the room.

 

Heavy footfalls sounded to Ryan's left, and his eyes twitched in that direction.

 

A Wolf who was obviously the Alpha of the pack stalked into the room, a smirk on his face at the sight of the two incapacitated Hunters. He was far taller and broader than any Alpha Ryan had encountered before, and he sucked in a breath as he realised that the Alpha was one of the First Werewolves, an Alpha of Alphas. Suddenly the huge pack size made sense - only a First had the sort of willpower required to keep so many Wolves in line.

 

"I've heard so many stories about you two," the First drawled, his voice a rich baritone. "Some even say you're the greatest Hunters to have ever lived. I was actually quite excited at the prospect of finally being able to meet the champion slayers of my kin." He cocked his head, eyeing them sceptically. "I have to admit, I'm more than a little disappointed. I didn't think you'd go down this easily."

 

Ryan's mind raced. The First had to have known that Ryan and Gavin were coming for them. There was no way he would have scapegoated so many of his own if he hadn't been sure that they were the ones who had responded to the call. His face darkened as he realised that the sheriff had to be in league with the Wolves - how else had the man escaped unscathed when his colleagues had either been killed or grievously injured? The First had probably promised to leave town if the sheriff didn't warn the Hunters of the true nature of the pack they'd been hired to go up against. Ryan cursed himself for not figuring things out sooner.

 

The First laughed as the realisation wrote itself across Ryan's face. "Seems you've placed too much trust in _your_ own kind, Hunter."

 

Gavin, white-faced and pressed against the ground, looked confused. "What?"

 

"The sheriff tricked us," Ryan replied through stiff lips, glaring up at the First. "He knew he was sending us right into a trap."

 

The Brit muttered an angry expletive under his breath. Ryan straightened as much as he could while still on his knees.

 

"If you're going to kill us, get it over with. No one likes a gloater."

 

With a grin, canines flashing, the First circled behind Ryan. "Takes the fun out of it if you're so eager for death."

 

"Oh trust me, I'm not. I just like waiting for it even less." It took everything Ryan had not to follow the First's movements with his eyes.

 

Laughing again, the First responded, in an amused tone, "Such cavalier bravado. Honestly, it's a shame you have to die."

 

The First took the place of the Wolf standing behind him, kneeling down behind the Hunter, almost touching him - even kneeling, the First dwarfed him, and for the first time since his childhood, Ryan suddenly felt very, very small. A tremor ran through him as the First closed what small distance there was between them, pressing himself against Ryan's back. It felt intimate and wrong, in every sense of both words. He tried to tear himself free from the hands restraining him, but to no avail. The First laughed at his doomed struggle, circling one of his arms around Ryan's waist and letting his claws grow, letting them dig in. Ryan grunted as they pierced through his shirt like it wasn't even there, breaking through the skin underneath and drawing blood. Gavin let out a choked sound at the way the Wolves all stiffened, sniffing the air, eyes dilating at the scent of an open wound.

 

"You've bitten off more than you can chew, Hunter," the First purred, mouth inches from Ryan's ear. The blond wrenched his head to the side, but there was nowhere for him to go. "How many of my children have you murdered? Tens? Hundreds? Or did you have the _skill_ to make it into the thousands?" His free hand suddenly gripped Ryan's hair, pulling cruelly tight, his claws digging in a little further. "Or were there just _so many_ that you've lost count? Tell me, is the sheer number of my kind killed, by people like yourself and your partner there, more or less than the number of humans killed by Werewolves?"

 

"Hunters kill Wolves to save innocent lives," Ryan replied tightly, somehow managing to keep the fear from his voice. "If we didn't hunt you down, there wouldn't be any humans left. You'd kill us all." He tried again to pull away, but was held firmly in place. "You're monsters," he spat, throat bobbing as he swallowed his terror.

 

The First chuckled darkly. "Murder's murder, no matter how prettily you paint it. If _I'm_ a monster for killing people, what does that make you?" Ryan was silent, and the First grinned, lips almost touching the blond's neck. "I'll tell you what it makes you," he whispered, and the Hunter shuddered at the way the words ghosted over his skin. "It makes you just as much of a monster as I am."

 

And he sank his fangs into Ryan's neck, just above the collarbone.

 

 _" _No!_ "_ Gavin screamed, and Ryan screamed right along with him as a chunk of flesh was torn away, blood and gore dripping from the First's fully transformed muzzle. Several Wolves growled hungrily at the sight, their primal side altering their physicality so that the room was filled with claws and fangs and fur. But, rather than eating Ryan alive in front of his partner, the First did something much worse.

 

He transformed himself completely back to his human form and stood, motioning for the Wolves holding Ryan's arms to let the Hunter go. "Leave him," he ordered a few of the more eager Wolves that had crept forward, hoping for a taste of human flesh. They ducked their heads and drew back, leaving Ryan to pick himself up off the floor. When he did, he charged after the First with a roar, heedless of the blood steadily soaking into his shirt.

 

Almost contemptuously, the First halted Ryan's charge with a swift boot to the stomach. Ryan seemed to crumple around the First's foot, air leaving his lungs in a great whoosh as he fell back to the floor, gasping and wheezing.

 

"Ryan!" Gavin cried out, helpless frustration filling him as he was unable to even so much as reach out, even though the other Hunter was barely a few metres from him.

 

Gavin flinched as the First crouched down in front of him, grabbing his hair and painfully pulling his head back so that they made eye contact. "In a moment," the First began, "I'm going to ask the Wolves holding you down to let you go. You're not going to try and fight us, though." His smile was all teeth, canines sharp even in their human form. "There are more than a dozen of us and only one of you. There's no possible scenario where you'd be able to overpower us by yourself - we'd just beat you again. But none of us would harm you. We'd leave that to your Hunter friend." Gavin whimpered as Ryan struggled to his hands and knees, only for one of the Wolves to kick him in the ribs and send him tumbling back to the floor. "See, the full moon is a few nights off yet, but it's still strong enough to turn a fledgling Wolf against their will. Especially one that's been bitten by a First. Once the moon's over the horizon, he'd want to tear into the closest prey he could find." The grin stretched even wider, teeth flashing wickedly. "That would be you, dear boy. He'd tear you limb from limb, then wake up tomorrow morning with no memory of it. But he'd know. He'd be covered in your blood, there'd probably be something of what would be left of your body that he'd recognise, and he'd know he was the one who killed you. So," he said, straightening up, "Me and mine will leave, and you won't try to stop us. I've just told you what will happen if you do. Understand?"

 

"Yes," Gavin choked, flinching as he saw Ryan being kicked again in his periphery.

 

"Good," the First hummed, dropping Gavin's head so suddenly that the Brit's chin almost smacked against the floor. The First waved at the two Wolves pinning Gavin down. "Off him, now. We're leaving." With that, he strode from the building, the pack filtering out after him. A few of them snapped and snarled at the two prone Hunters, but ultimately left them alone, as per their leader's command.

 

Gavin crawled over to Ryan once they were gone, reaching out a trembling hand to smooth the older man's hair. Ryan sighed at the touch, remaining on his back as Gavin pulled him into a vice-like embrace. He let himself soak in the sensation of being held so lovingly, so desperately, for a few moments. Then, with a sinking heart, he sighed again and murmured, "Gavin. You know what has to happen now."

 

The Brit shook his head resolutely, then tucked it under Ryan's chin, careful to avoid the injury over his collarbone. "No."

 

"I have to."

 

"No, you don't!" He pulled back, his hands gripping Ryan's bicep and his eyes glistening with tears. "We- we can make it work, there's got to be some way to fix you- I've got some wolfsbane in one of my pockets, it has to at least help, just let me find-"

 

"I've been bitten by a First, Gavin," he said softly, halting the younger man's frantic pat-down of himself as he searched for the herb. "All the wolfsbane in the world isn't going to do a thing." He took a shuddering breath, meeting Gavin's eyes. "I'm trusting you to do this for me."

 

Gavin shook his head again. "I can't."

 

"I'll do it if you don't."

 

A strangled noise clawed its way out of Gavin's throat, and he clutched at Ryan all the more tightly. "I don't want you to die."

 

"Neither do I," Ryan replied, forcing humour into the words. Then, more melancholy, he continued, "But I want to be a monster even less. Don't do that to me, Gav. Please don't let me change."

 

"…One last kiss?" Gavin asked quietly, tears brimming.

 

Ryan was hesitant. "I haven't got long. I don't want to hurt you. If I accidentally bit you… I don't want my last memory to be that I turned you into a monster too."

 

Gavin pressed his lips ever so lightly against Ryan's. "You won't hurt me, Rye. Please, I want to say goodbye properly."

 

The older man let out a small sound at the pliant feel of Gavin's lips on his own. Against his better judgement, he let the kiss deepen, tongue flickering out to taste Gavin's mouth, feeling the younger man's compassion and bitter desperation pouring into the gesture. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and Gavin made an unhappy noise, fingers curling in Ryan's shirt and pulling him even closer.

 

There was an abrupt shift in the mood of the kiss - Ryan's mouth became more insistent, rougher, possessive. His teeth seemed sharper, dangerously close to breaking through the skin of Gavin's lips. Gavin let out the slightest of whines, wary of what those teeth would do to him if Ryan actually bit him.

 

Ryan suddenly flipped them both, seemingly heedless of his bite wound as he pinned Gavin to the floor. Then, with a monumental effort, he pulled away, breaking the contact of their lips. His breathing was harsh, his eyes wild. "Gavin," he meant to whisper, but the name came out in a tone disturbingly akin to a growl. "Gavin, please, now. I don't want to change first." Even as he said it, he could feel his teeth continue to sharpen, his nails thickening into claws. The Brit stared up at him, frozen in anguish as Ryan's hairline started to creep down his forehead. "Now!" Ryan barked, and Gavin squirmed out from underneath the older man, scurrying a few paces away to retrieve his pistol, pulling a fresh clip from his pocket with trembling hands before slotting it into the gun. Ryan gritted his teeth and flopped onto his back again, fighting the new Wolf part of him trying to assert its dominance. It was growing harder to resist by the second. He could practically feel the gibbous moon inching closer to the horizon, calling to him and coercing him into the change.

 

Gavin's hands shook around the plastic moulded grip of his pistol as he returned to Ryan's side, breath coming as a gaspy sob when Ryan gently guided his hands into place, pressing the cold barrel against his temple. He rubbed the edge of Gavin's palm reassuringly, even mustering a small, sad smile. "I love you, Gavin. Thank you."

 

"I love you too," Gavin managed to choke out, pulling the trigger as the first of the tears began to fall.


End file.
